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Away, my songs, must we go
With a hand freed from weight,
XIX. Jones Sound and Beaufort Sea
To mark that square, perhaps: were Mère and Père
Want anything said at all, which I still doubt)
Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
Whiteness, those pediments that rise
As it sits there like an eventual
What can we know of whatever picture-plane
What? What can you do?
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
Appear to lift up from the lake;
The paths of childhood.
Beneath the snowflakes I notice façades
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You may think that this is just a bunch of random text but its not!!! THE INTERWEB is a farKing artist I tell you! and if you don't admit it you will be attacked by a ham hammer!!! Ray Kurzweil knows the future and this is it! Soon the internets will be the greatest artist in the world!!! This magnificient poetry is just the beginning!!!
2 comments:
The interweb sitting in his trailer park
holds his HAM-mer tight in one and the other the hate of the world...
There was some sexual tension in that poem.
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